Redemption Song
by AmericanWordsmith
Summary: After leaving Hogwarts, Tabitha Dolohov has a hard time deciding what to do. Curse breaking is… a disaster. So she applies to St. Mungo's. There she starts working for the famous Dark Arts Healer Draco Malfoy, still ego-bruised from his family's downfall. (Picks up May 1998; very slight AU.)
1. Chapter 1

**We begin in unhappy times (well, _happy_ times), Draco may (or may not) have lied about his NEWTs, we meet the daughter of the missing Death Eater Dolohov, and she _totally_ can't remember "ginger" root.**

* * *

_**May, 1998**_

All Tabitha could seem to think, as she sat with her hands beneath her legs, on a bench in the Ministry of Magic was _"I'm twelve. And a Ravenclaw. What can they want with me?" _

But her name, Dolohov, that name carried weight. No one was sure where her father, Antonin, went after Flitwick overpowered him. Could she know? And the girl had been born in _Azkaban_ of all places, hadn't she? And where was her mother? _Who _was her mother?

Tabitha very much wanted to see her Aunt Liri. Liri was as close to a mother as she had ever known growing up.

She'd only seen her father _one_ time. It was before she had even begun her studies at Hogwarts. He broke out of prison, Azkaban, and he'd made a stop to see her. That was what she had thought, when Aunt Liri made her pull on her nicest dress, combed out her hair long platinum hair, and brought her downstairs.

But the cold, dark, grizzled man standing in front of her did not seem to be here to _visit_ her, per se.

"How is her magic?" he asked her Aunt.

"Strong, brother," she said, "Your daughter is a quick learner."

"And does she fight?" he asked.

"I have a sparring tutor for her. He assures me she accels."

He nodded and paced over to her. For someone who had recently escaped Azkaban, he was remarkably clean and put together. It was probably one of the first things he'd done.

Towering more than two feet above her, he had grabbed a chunk of her hair, inspecting it from the roots. She held in a yelp and some burning tears. Then he grabbed her right arm, letting go of the fistfull of hair thankfully, and felt her wrist.

"She's skinny," he told her Aunt.

"That's… well, if you're ever concerned with…"

"Out with it!"

"With her marrying, it will be better if she's a little leaner," her Aunt said lightly, not meeting Tabitha's eyes. Hearing her aunt say that though, if she were being honest, was the moment she grew up.

"Oh, I do not trouble myself with matters like that," he said with a scoff, "Fine, do what you think is best. All I order is, no matter what, keep her in Bärgadestad; she must go to Durmstrang. But, no more, I must be off now."

He gave Aunt Liri a curt handshake with a pat on the shoulder, but didn't bother to acknowledge her anymore than that before he apparated.

"Do we even know when he'll be back?" Tabitha had finally managed to ask.

"He probably won't dear," she said and knelt down to her level. "See? It's better this way."

Well, she hadn't gotten invited to Durmstrang, which was strange. She thought her father would have been able to pull some strings. Either way, she had _actually _wanted to go to Hogwarts. Stories of school there seemed much more fun and inviting than the 12 hour school days at Durmstrang. The real surprise came when she became the first Dolohov to be placed in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin. Her Aunt didn't know what to make of it but, she wasn't _un_happy. Liri was one of the few that supported the Dark Lord _only_ out of consideration for her family. And, right now, her only task was to watch over Antonin Dolohov's daughter.

Tabitha was thrilled. The Ravenclaws weren't brooding or viciously competitive like the Slytherins. And Hogwarts was even better than she'd ever dreamed. She couldn't wait until she could finally visit Hogsmeade.

And then, just as her second year rounded out, Hogwarts was attacked. At the end of it all, instead of celebrating in the streets like the rest of the wizarding world, she found herself waiting to be interrogated at the Ministry instead of back at home in Sweden for vacation.

It was while she was still waiting that she saw the Malfoys. All handcuffed, Draco included, they rounded a bend in the hallway. Tabitha had always had a crush on Draco; the hair, the piercing eyes, the lean frame, and sharp features… how could she not? He was every 12-year-old girl's dream. But, not only had they not been in the same house, Draco was a 6th year when she first arrived to the school. He didn't have a clue who she was, probably.

She was sad to see him like this now. One of the things that made him so attractive was his overwhelming confidence, the way he held himself with authority. He'd been made Prefect when she'd started her second year. The previous year, she had noticed him lose his proud posture and begun to slouch, almost cower. She'd noticed him grow even thinner and even paler, his eyes becoming sunken. She'd noticed because her crush had grown wickedly fierce over the course of her first year there. She'd gossiped about it a bit with other girls in her year, but most of them preferred Harry Potter who had mysteriously disappeared… until the Battle of course. Still, the battle aside, it had been nice to see Draco with some of his swagger back as a Prefect.

And here Draco was now, looking about as shrunken as she'd ever seen him. He was practically balling himself up while still managing to stand and walk forward; he clearly wanted to disappear. His parents, on either side of him, were still standing tall and proud but it was a laughably transparent facade.

As soon as they had walked past, they were gone. None of them giving her so much as a second glance. And then, she was called in for own interrogation.

* * *

If Draco had thought the days after the Battle of Hogwarts were tough, he should have seen how the weeks would pan out. And as the weeks became torturous, he should have foreseen the upcoming _months_. Once he realized his family was in for a truly and debilitatingly long set of consequences, Draco wondered if it might even be _years_ before the Malfoys found any peace.

He supposed he should be happy. Voldemort was gone. He _still _didn't like to say the name but could think it. His childhood home was no longer overrun by Death Eaters and murders and torturings. Now it was just overrun by Ministry workers looking for every shred of evidence they could fine and every drop of money they might be able to squeeze out of them.

But, all things considered, since his family hadn't participated in the final battle of the Second Wizarding War, they were at least kept out of prison. Now, they were just hated from all sides.

Draco was virtually cut off from all of his friends. In an effort to remain free of suspicion, the once close families of Slytherin cut of ties. No more Crabbe, no more Goyle, not even Pansy. And the very _worst _of it was how _Potter_ had saved him. But, even he had to admit he was thankful.

And there were other things to be thankful for too. Come the end of the year, the Ministry had finished its inspecting (or raiding) of their home and called out. So rich were the Malfoys, they'd only managed to clear about half their wealth which _still_ left his family one of the richest in the Wizarding world.

Plus, before the Battle of Hogwarts, he'd managed to get _almost_ perfect NEWT scores. He had a lot of career options, but it seemed best to keep his head down for a bit as it seemed unlikely anyone would hire a Malfoy so soon. So he spent his 18th year in the world in relative peace, the only disruption caused by the comings and goings of the Ministry. It was good for him, somewhere deep down he knew that; he needed a respite after all he'd been through.

* * *

The Ministry had released her relatively quickly and easily. It didn't take long for their interrogators to sift through her mind and see 1) She had no idea where her father was, had been, would be, or what he had or was doing. 2) She had not grown up trained to support Voldemort, was firmly on the _good _side, and likely always would be. Not even realizing her aunt had been taken from Sweden, Liri was released similarly and they were able to go home together.

Tabitha returned for her third year at Hogwarts fall that year. She had her first trip to Hogsmeade, _finally_. She made Ravenclaw's Quidditch team as a Chaser. She even had her first kiss with a very nice but fairly pudgy Adam Warselton in Hufflepuff. But always, in the back of her mind, was her father.

Unlike the now-famous tales of Harry Potter, her father had never bothered to drop her special gifts after escaping Azkaban. And now he was just dead. Liri told her to move on. Do her best at Hogwarts and get a good job. But Liri was getting old. Soon, Tabitha feared, she might not have any family left.

* * *

**__****Fall, 1999**

Just over two years after he'd left Hogwarts, Draco found himself back. He was only going to be there for a few months, not the whole year. In his year of "figuring things out" he'd decided he'd like to become a healer. It seemed like the perfect place to practice his multitude of skills while not stirring up any trouble or concern from the ministry. If anything, going into a position specifically to _help_ people could only help his family's profile.

Not that he particularly wanted to do anything to help his family. Draco was disillusioned. At first he hadn't exactly been able to articulate how he was feeling; he was unused to _not_ having family pride. And while he wasn't able to entirely erase his bigotry towards Mudbloods, he was _shocked_ to be able to admit to himself it was, in fact, just bigotry. And so he blamed his family and their legacy. They were the ones that had instilled all this in him. _They_ were the ones that had put him on the wrong side, punished by the Dark Lord for his _father's _mistakes. _They _were why he had been shaped into the type of person Potter would never let become an Auror.

And that was when the word hit him. Disillusioned. Disillusioned Draco, the title always made him crack a wry and sad smile.

Anyway, as well as he'd done on all of his NEWTs before the end of the war, he hadn't gotten an O in Herbology, which was required to become a healer. At the time, in his seventh year at school, he may or may not have told people he got straight O's. He _swore_, he couldn't remember. He'd, quite unfortunately, been at the mercy of some Death Eater torture back in the day and he was pretty sure it had inadvertently wiped some of his memory. Well, all the more reason to become a healer.

He got an apartment in Hogsmead for his months of studying, not wanting to live at Hogwarts _or_ with his parents. Surprisingly, his mother and father seemed to completely _get it_. They'd put up with his sullen, quiet attitude while he lived with them doing nothing the previous year. They'd seemed _guilty_, though loathe to show it or, heaven forbid, actually _talk _about it. And so, when Draco moved out and did the bare minimum to keep ties with his family, there was no push-back.

Draco had become a complete introvert, typically only interacting with the people that came and went from his parents' house. Hogsmead was much the same. There certainly weren't many people in the town he could relate to. He wasn't from a family of _business_ owners, after all. And who was he supposed to talk to at the school? The students closest in age to him were two years younger and had _no idea _what being an adult actually meant. No, he preferred not to even enter the school and simply head straight to the greenhouses for private lessons with Professor Sprout, toiling over teething Tentaculas.

Sometimes Neville would be there but, after the first week they'd crossed paths, both of them had made an immediate effort to arrange their schedules on opposite ends. He'd been unable to hold back a sneering _"Longbottom?" _It had actually come out meaner than he meant, force of habit. Neville looked surprisingly well and had outgrown most of his childhood awkwardness… definitely not all of it, not by a long shot. But he was studying to take over Sprout's job; she was retiring in just a few years. Professor Longbottom at Hogwarts? Not bad.

He'd had to sit through an entrance interview with the Headmistress, McGonagall, of course. But that had been pretty unremarkable. She asked if he was well, keeping it short and curt enough to suggest she was aware he was not. But he said he was and they'd settled on a schedule and where he could and could not be. He could, for example, have all of his meals provided by the Hogwarts kitchens. Draco was actually planning to get his own House Elf but, for the time being, he preferred to use magic to make his own meals at his apartment rather than sit with students. He wasn't, though, allowed back in Slytherin's rooms now that he'd settled on an apartment.

Then there were the evenings he needed to use the library. Almost all of his work was done in the greenhouses, but there was a lot of refreshing from previous years he needed to do. He'd always hated Herbology; he never paid attention. Never _used_ to pay attention.

He tried to go to the library as late as possible to avoid meeting other students. No one going to the school now could possibly be as stupid about studying as Granger, right? But, one night, just as he was memorizing the plants that were only strengthened by the _Incendio_ spell, a young girl approached him.

* * *

Entering her fourth year at Hogwarts, Tabitha was absolutely shocked when, during one of her first weeks back, she passed none other than Draco Malfoy in the halls. He was coming from McGonagall's office. She'd all but forgotten her crush on him, but it came slamming back with full force upon seeing him. Well he didn't have quite the same effect on her as he had when she was 12—after all, she was _14_ now, much more mature.

He looked older, surprise of surprises. But primarily, he looked better. Granted, that was no great feat given the bound state she'd seen him in after the last battle when she herself was waiting for interrogation at the Ministry. Doing her best to ignore him and go on with her life proved impossible as the whole school was gossiping about his return. Adam was skinnier this year! And keen to make out… er, his best approximation of making out anyway. He was nice; he bought her Butterbeer in Hogsmead.

They couldn't have possibly hired him as a teacher, could they? No, the professors lived in Hogwarts and, after just a week, everyone knew that he was renting a place in Hogsmead. He just seemed to be there _studying_. It was baffling. He didn't talk to anyone.

She hadn't planned to run into him, per se… she just happened to know he came to the library about a quarter after midnight every Thursday. And she also knew that she had a big exam in Potions the next day and she _legitimately_ needed help. No, really, she did.

Her heart was in her throat when she entered the library and saw him. It was quite dim, his was the only lantern lighting the room. He didn't see hers in the doorway behind him because his back was to her. But she knew it was him, the hair a dead giveaway. He was bent over a book, looking intense. She hoped she wasn't interrupting him at too important of a moment… She reached out.

"D-Draco…?" Her hand touched the back of his cloak lightly, barely grazing him.

He spun on her, surprised and annoyed all at once.

"_What?"_ he snapped, looking at the girl. She was young, maybe still in her third year, maybe her fourth. She was tall for her age and _ridiculously _skinny; she hadn't come into her own yet at all. Her hair was like his, though, so platinum blonde it was almost a silver-white. Hers was long and fell down to the middle of her back. She had dark brown eyes though; it was difficult to place her heritage. She looked very vaguely familiar but the only thing he could discern for sure was that she was in Ravenclaw, thanks to her blue and bronze tie. _Uck_, that bronze; he'd always found it such an off-putting color. But Ravenclaw _was_ the only other respectable house besides Slytherin.

The girl was still standing there shocked into stillness. He tried to be at least _somewhat_ nicer; he was an adult now and he didn't do things like bully children anymore. But it was hard as he'd had so little human contact as of late. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Tabitha…" she answered finding her voice.

"_Tabitha?"_ he asked, sneering all over again. "Don't be slow! How does that help me? Family name!"

"Dolohov," she said, biting her bottom lip.

He visibly recoiled. It was _her_ father that had tortured him after Snape had killed Dumbledore instead of himself. He looked the girl up and down suspiciously. A Ravenclaw? He remembered. The girl had grown up in Sweden and Antonin had barely come in contact with her. He'd seen her a few times in his last years at school, but not thought anything of it beyond the initial recognition. There'd been a lot of _other_ issues on his mind those years.

"What do you want?" he asked, feigning more irritation than he actually felt.

"Y-you probably don't remember me-"

"-I don't."

"O-oh, okay. Well when you still went to school here, everyone knew you were so good at Potions," she stammered, "I have an exam on wit-sharpening potions tomorrow… I could really use a little extra help, if you have a-any time?"

He rolled his eyes. Was she for _real? _Well, that potion wouldn't take him that long. _"Fine_, come on," he said and started a brisk pace down to the dungeons.

He did little more than watch her work; barking out instructions whenever she went wrong and occasionally stepping up next to her to demonstrate the best way to cut or stir during a particular step.

The girl was bright. It became apparent, very quickly, that she did not actually need his help. She was pretending to mix up the same two roots every time she began her brewing process. She wasn't a very good actress either. That meant one thing; she had a crush on him. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. Definitely a little annoyed, but it was also kind of cute. And it wasn't unwelcome—_not that he was interested in a 14-year-old, ew_—this was the first time that anyone had actually sought him out positively in several years. This was the first time anyone had _sought him out_, period, in a few years actually.

So he played along till she got it right and sent her on her way. It had been mildly entertaining, but he didn't wish to repeat the experience. And, god forbid, what if there were _others_? No, he had never wanted to be a teacher.

Tabitha on the other hand was ecstatic. She wouldn't have sought him out again anyway; after a perfect night standing next to him, even touching hands when passing ingredients, and _smelling_ him (clean but musky). She wasn't going to mar that memory by nagging him all the time. So, after that night, she didn't look for him even once while he was still at Hogwarts. He was going to become one of those childhood crushes she never saw again, she was sure.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone for checking out the first chapter. We start getting into the thick of it starting with Chapter 2 so please follow if you're interested in what happens once Draco goes on to… dun, dun, dun—**_**real adult life**_**! Reviews are always very much appreciated too! **


	2. Chapter 2

**As we continue: Tabitha gets a boyfriend, then she doesn't need one, Draco **_**might**_** have an alcohol problem, and everyone endures awkward interviews.**

* * *

_**Fall 2000 **_

Draco had left sometime before Christmas in Tabitha's fourth year. She hadn't intended to notice, _honestly_, but she had. After he'd "helped" her to study for a Potions exam (which she aced but, doubtless, would have with or without him) she'd let her gaze wander between her classes just often enough to spy him trudging towards the Herbology greenhouses. It was the same time, day after day. And then, just before the holidays, she stopped seeing him through the window.

No matter, after the break, Adam showed up outside the Ravenclaw dorms to ask her to be his girlfriend, like, his _for real _girlfriend. She said yes because it just seemed like the appropriate thing to do. And she liked the idea of a boyfriend very much. None of her other friends really had anything _serious_, not like her and Adam.

But now she was returning as a fifth year; she had just turned 15. Now she knew better than to _need_ a boyfriend. She was going to break up with Adam. And she was also going to quit Quidditch because she had found a new passion: singing. She was fully intent on becoming the next great vocalist of the Wizarding world. Maybe she'd even start a band.

* * *

After Draco had completed his second go at the Herbology NEWT—with an O this time, duh—he applied for a job at St. Mungo's. He first had to be interviewed by the Board of Healers. They'd looked over his grades, had him perform a few charms and other spells, and Draco thought that would be it.

But then, they began to interview him. "Mr. Malfoy, if you'd be so kind, can you please tell us a bit about your time since the Battle of Hogwarts?" asked Healer Smethwyck, head of the ward that dealt with bites, stings, and burns.

"_Er_, well, I went back to Hogwarts for several months to improve my Herbology skills…"

"Yes, a few months. But you graduated in 1998 and that was when the battle occurred as well, what have you done with the rest of your time?" the man pressed.

Ever so slightly, Draco's nostrils flared as he let out a deep but steady breath. Those were not times he liked to remember, why were they pressing him?

"My colleague is too subtle," said Healer Tamridge, who no longer specifically worked in any ward at St. Mungo's and primarily oversaw things as one of the most experienced board members. "Mr. Malfoy, if we are to hire you we will need some reassurance about your well-known history with the Dark Arts."

Draco sputtered and covered it with a cough. "Of course," he replied, trying not to glare. He wanted this job. "I was… very young when I was _forced_ into such practices. Now that… the war is over, I have been able to find autonomy and, er, move on with my life, if you will."

"But still, you have experience with the Dark Arts, more than most," Smethwyck continued.

"Unfortunately, yes," Draco had to reply.

"Unfortunate at the time maybe," the old man said, "But we could use someone on staff with that knowledge. You would be surprised how many afflicted patients we still see."

Tamridge still looked at him skeptically. "In which ward were you hoping to apprentice?"

"I hadn't quite decided," he admitted, "I thought myself best suited for either the Potions Ward or the Spell Damage Ward."

"The Potions Ward also includes maladies from plants. You yourself have admitted a failing in Herbology… needing to take the exam twice?"

"Well, I've always found experience to be the best teacher," he said proudly. It was a good answer. Kind of a smug answer, but a good one.

"I have no hesitancies, shall we take a vote?" Smethwyck said and looked to the ten other Healers at the rounded table. "All in favor…"

Smethwyck and the others all lifted their hands in favor. Grudgingly, Tamridge did as well. _Oh well_, Draco thought, _Can't win them all over._ Tamridge was old, she'd likely be retiring soon. And, even if she didn't, Draco could do nothing but prove himself in time. He had becoming incredibly good at keeping his head down and his focus straight.

So he was hired as an Apprentice Healer on the Spell Damage Ward, with orders to assist in cases involving Herbology at least 20 hours a week. The apprentice position was going to be time consuming and mentally draining work, but he'd make it. He'd sure as hell suffered worse.

* * *

_**Fall 2001 **_

When she turned 16, Tabitha suddenly became the only one _without _a boyfriend but, surprisingly, it didn't seem to face her. On the cusp of graduation and NEWTs, life suddenly became all about school. It was a good thing she'd already dropped Quidditch, but she found herself forced to give up her musical aspirations as well. Not that she had been particularly good at singing or songwriting…

Tabitha had always found Gringotts bank to be abjectly fascinating. She had since the time she was a small girl and Liri had first taken her from Sweden to access her family's account. And so, toying with the idea of becoming a Curse-Breaker, she'd already received a perfect score on her OWL in Arithmancy. Now she was working her tail off for her impending NEWTs. Liri wasn't in the best of health these days and, even though the Dolohov family had plenty of residual wealth to its name, Tabitha figured a steady job would be a welcome distraction when she had no family left.

* * *

Okay so the job was a lot harder than he expected. By the end of his first year as an apprentice Draco had seen things _far_ more unspeakable than he had as a Death Eater and that was truly saying something. People could be incredibly, unbelievably stupid; stupidity was the source of almost all the horrific things he saw these days. Who on Earth was dumb enough to lean against the flesh-eating trees of the Amazon? Their bark was a brilliant, unmissable red! And why did all of these young children feel the need to try out hex after hex on one another? Hexes were complicated; they inevitably went very, very wrong.

Strangest of all for Draco, though, was learning compassion. Healers couldn't discriminate against whom they helped. Thus, he had to get used to the occasional Muggle sent in after they'd run astray into the Wizarding world or a wizard had decided to have some "fun." He felt a familiar pang of deep seated guilt every time he was faced with one of those particular cases. His own father had so enjoyed that type of "fun."

Furthermore, as he primarily worked in Spell Damage, he ended up spending quite a bit of time checking in on the Longbottoms. Neville's grandmother had died and their son was perpetually tied up at Hogwarts. They didn't get many visitors, not that he noticed. He didn't go to visit though; he went to observe. They were insane from magical torture… there was nothing St. Mungo's could do about insanity, _yet._ After hiring him, the board members were determined to find a way to counteract the long-lasting effects of Dark Magic spells. So, in addition to all his other responsibilities, he spent a large amount of time studying new magic that might be able to help eventually.

But one day, as he stood in the Longbottoms' rooms taking notes, he ran into Neville yet again.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Draco turned, clipboard and quill in hand, to spy Neville behind him. He gestured to his lime green Healer jacket, "I, um, work here," he said.

"They're letting a Death Eater take care of my parents!" Neville raged, "I need to speak to someone about this! They can't do that! Not a… not a… a _Malfoy!_"

Draco cringed and put up his hands defensively. "Neville, I know this is hard for you to believe but you can trust me. I'm a Healer now, I've taken an oath to do no harm."

Neville blinked at him for a few moment. "You called me Neville," he said finally.

Draco let his notes hang from his hand limply at his side. "I suppose I did," he said and began to walk out. "I'll give you some privacy. If you have any questions on their condition, I'll be somewhere about in the rest of the ward… but I can tell you there's been little change."

"Thanks," Neville said flatly, an extremely confused look on his face. Draco began to walk out but stopped.

"Your parents… they were good people. _Are _good people," he corrected himself, "My parents can't say the same. I am sorry for what happened."

It was the first time he'd verbalized the shame he felt to anyone else. The first time he'd even fully acknowledged to himself. So stressful was this new job, he'd been spending most of his evenings with a great deal of Firewhisky. And the alcohol had also helped to dull the pain of his past and conflicted feelings about the present.

Neville didn't say anything else though, so Draco concluded with a nod and continued on his way.

* * *

_**Fall 2002 **_

Perpetually on and off, Tabitha had gotten back together with Adam over the summer right before her 17th birthday. Liri had died; she was officially on her own. And Adam was so genuine in his concern for her well-being afterwards that she felt almost _obligated _to date him.

That school year, her _final_ school year—she was sad to say, she got perfect scores on all of her NEWTs. Adam did not; Adam got very, very _bad_ scores on his NEWTs. She used this as an excuse to break up with him claiming that _they just weren't really on the same level _and _she needed someone a little more invested in their future_.

Really, she had already been offered a job with Gringotts as a Curse-Breaker. She'd be taken all over the world working for them, there was no way she could tie herself down to a boyfriend!

* * *

Things were looking up for Draco during his second year of work. There were new apprentices around to the majority of the grunt work, of course. He'd also, finally, managed to win the trust of Tamridge—who was on the cusp of retiring, so it didn't matter much anyway.

Most strangely of all, he was becoming considered one of the Healers with the best bedside manner. He actually had patients who would _request _him during their visits. Admittedly, during his first few months at St. Mungo's, he'd had a hard time thinking of his patients as actual people rather than, like… practice dummies? Something to that effect, he wasn't sure how to label it.

But he'd gone _so long_ without any real social contact that he found himself becoming perfectly happy to chat with his patients. He would stick around to answer extra questions for worried family members or to reassure lonelier patients that they would always receive the best care at St. Mungo's. He consulted with mothers who came with little boys prone to get into particularly tricky mischief. And he gave elderly patients patient and persistent instructions on how to care for wounds able to heal at home.

Over time, he didn't even notice if his patients were listed as half-bloods, muggle, or pure-blood. Believe it or not, they needed that kind of information as half-bloods and muggles oftentimes were brought in completely unaware that were afflicted with a condition only a doctor could cure, not a Healer. The non-magical maladies, he found, could often be even more disgusting than wizarding illnesses.

He saw his parents briefly around the holidays once or twice a year. He rarely even stayed over night. Draco spent almost all of his time working with no social life to speak of save… his occasional sojourn to the muggle world. One night after a particularly long day of work reviewing patient histories, he'd wandered into farther into muggle London than he'd ever ventured before. He'd seen a tavern of some sort, with loud, blaring music, and bright boxes with some sort of on-going game being displayed on them. He noticed that the establishment seemed to attract a crowd of muggles around his own age. And, all of a sudden, he'd felt a surge of intense longing and loneliness. He hadn't spent time with friends his own age—or even _had _friends—in quite awhile.

He went in and finding a muggle woman wasn't difficult at all. The muggles were all intoxicated, a state he found himself appreciating more and more these days. And his looks were startlingly different than most of the other men in the bar with bulging muscles, spray tans, and closely shaved heads. He didn't do it often, but we he did venture out he always brought a woman back. And she was always gone the next morning, much to his relief, without a word. He'd had no idea that muggle woman had some sort of understanding in these situations… but he liked this form of etiquette very much. He also had no idea that he was actually just hanging out at the wrong type of bar.

* * *

_**Fall 2003**_

It had only been a few months since her graduation from Hogwarts, only a few weeks since her 18th birthday, and Tabitha's life was a wreck.

She'd started her job for Gringott's right away and the program did _not_ offer training. Curse-breakers were supposed to arrive ready to enter the business with legs kicking and wands wielding. Tabitha had the logistics and pragmatism of the spells she needed _down_; but there was no way to teach a person bravery, apparently.

And Tabitha had thought she _was_ brave! But watching a colleague use a _basic_ spell to remove the hex from some Mayan gold only to have _every bone in his body_ turned backwards… well, that was more than bravery. That required just a little bit of insanity.

The one bit of slack that she was cut as a new hire was that she was first sent to South America for an assignment. South American treasure was known to be considerably less protected by magic than the finds they encountered in Egypt or ruins in China. She had been excited; it was her first trip across the Atlantic.

And then she'd been jinxed _by a statue_. Right, because statues inherently never stopped blinking. It was armed to release the _oppognu _jinx onto intruders and what had it summoned? Tarantulas. Tabitha quite just a few weeks later.

Liri had died, anyway… just a few days after seeing Tabitha graduate. From what they could tell it appeared to be natural causes. Tabitha had been left a considerable sum from the Dolohov name. Not an impressive amount, by any means. The Dolohov's weren't the Blacks or the Malfoys, after all. If she had decided to simply live in Sweden and do nothing, she probably could have lived on the funds by herself for close to a decade. But Tabitha didn't want to do nothing, she just didn't want to be a curse-breaker. So she gave herself a few months to think things through.

* * *

Of all of the patients Draco genuinely grew close to, it was impossible _not_ to care for the Longbottoms. They were on his main floor, Spell Damage, perpetually. And while he did spend most of his time on the opposite side of the ward with outpatients, he frequently had to make trips back to their side with the other inpatients throughout the days and weeks. He saw them often.

It became the case that they started to recognize him. They probably didn't know _what_ to recognize him _as_, or who for that matter, but his face was familiar. They liked his hair. Sometimes Alice would try to stroke it, humming a lullaby softly to herself and he always felt the uncomfortable and primarily unfamiliar pang of guilt and sadness. Guilt at the involvement of his family… his horrid Aunt's victimization of the Longbottoms. And then, inevitably, he'd think of Neville and the undue hell he'd put that boy through at Hogwarts. And somewhere even deeper, he'd think of how his own mother typically preferred to show him calculated coolness than genuine warmth. He knew she loved him; she'd fought fiercely for him when he'd been chosen to assassinate Dumbledore. Still, he wondered how different he would be today if he'd had a more loving childhood.

His own problems aside, his presence on the ward meant that he was always around when Neville stopped by for a visit. Neville seemed to try to make it at least once a month, but he appeared to have a busy schedule at Hogwarts. The second time they ran into each other at the hospital, Neville's discomfort appeared to have lifted. He actually waved at him.

Draco lifted his hand up in a half-wave before closing the file he'd been holding and deciding to go over to Neville. He wasn't sure what possessed him to do it; it seemed right. Neville could use it as an opportunity to blow up in his face if he'd wanted—he'd seemed close to doing so last time—and he would have every right to do so…

"Hullo," was all that Neville said though. He was carrying a small pot of brilliant white flowers with small stems. _Moly_, Draco recognized; they supplied it to Aurors to take regularly as it protected against Dark Enchantments. It would do the Longbottoms no help now but he suspected Neville was well aware.

"Neville," he said and held out his hand. Neville paused a beat but shook it firmly. "Your parents have been well… I know you're mum will appreciate the new flowers, she's gotten quite good using a muggle device called a "mister" to care for them."

"She's taking care of them?" he asked and they walked side-by-side into them room.

Alice laughed with delight when Neville entered and Frank began to clap, both wore huge grins. Neville paused to except his parents sloppy hugs before going to their window to look at the neat row of tiny and harmless magical plants, all flourishing.

"They always let them die before… or sometimes destroyed them," he said.

Draco still stood in the doorway to help maintain a sense of privacy for the family. "Familiar faces are useful for them," he said, "I try to stop by every day and, if I can't, there's another Apprentice Healerthey know well. And Alice… I mean, your mum, she likes to mimic actions. It seems to calm her down. That's how we taught her to mist." He gestured to the plastic bottle with a squeezable spray head. Neville puffed it into the air and Alice and Frank both applauded again, catching a case of the giggles.

Neville handed over the new pot to Alice and she hugged her son long and hard. Draco could see Neville tearing up.

"Well, please let me know if you have any questions," Draco said, turning to leave.

"Wait," Neville said. Draco looked at him, still hugging his mum. He said over her shoulder, "Thank you."

Draco nodded, "Of course," and, not wanting to tear up himself, walked from the room.

For the first time in a very long time, it felt like he might actually have a friend.

It was just a few months later, that Draco made the most important discovery of his life. Using an updated steeping technique on the onyx stems of the Moly plant, he was able to produce a hyper-extracted potion… knowing that, at the very least, it was just a benign juice, he allowed Frank and Alice to try some.

That's when they started to get better.

* * *

_**Fall 2004 **_

At the still tender age of 19, Tabitha prepared for her entrance interview at St. Mungo's. She was terrified. Thanks to none other than Draco Malfoy, there was a new standard being set for Healers. At just 23, he'd found a cure for insanity caused by the Cruciatus Curse or any other Dark Magic. That same year, one of St. Mungo's eldest board members retired and Draco had been offered his place. Not only was he the youngest ever St. Mungo's Board Member, he was also the Head Healer of the Spell Damage ward.

Maybe the other board members would go easy on her during the interview, but not Draco. He was practically just out of Hogwarts himself… he was going to expect her to know _everything_. He was going to want to know _why_ she couldn't hack it as a curse-break. He might even remember when she'd faked needing help for that potions exam. (Yes, it _was _fake! It'd been a complete ruse! She admitted it!)

When she was finally called in before the entire board though, she found herself making an effort to not look at anyone, not just him. But then she realized coming off as meek was never an asset to any job so then she started looking at everyone. But then she started to worry that might seem aggressive so she slapped the biggest smile she could onto her face.

"Tabitha Dolohov…" read a man she knew to be Healer Smethwyck from his interview on Draco's promotion in the paper.

"Yes, that's me. Thank you all so much for the opportunity to be here today," she said. Smethwyck and a few of the others smiled down at her, "I greatly appreciate your time."

"It looks like from your application," he began again, "That you and Healer Malfoy attended Hogwarts at the same time. Do you remember Mr. Malfoy?"

Tabitha looked directly at him with what she hoped was a believable smile, "I was quite a few years behind…"

"I remember you," he interrupted. His gaze was low and steady and of real confidence. He didn't return her fake smile, "But I can't speak to her skills, of course, as we weren't even in the same house."

"Yes, a Ravenclaw," began a new witch, Tabitha squinted trying to read her name, "My own house! We've had few applicants from Ravenclaw in the past few years I'm sorry to say."

"Normally, Miss Dolohov, I have to admit, we'd ask you about your family name and any, erm, impending _connections_," Smethwyck said, "But the Ministry has put a very good note on your file. They found nothing that raised alarm."

"I have no… um, no connections to the Dark Arts, no. I actually don't have any family left," she said.

The board members looked at her awkwardly. What exactly were they supposed to say? _Thank goodness for that! _

"I'm sorry to hear that," someone said finally. It was Draco. She gave him a short nod but hoped her eyes expressed her gratitude.

"I did not know them well to begin with," she replied.

"Well," Smethwyck said, leading the conversation once again, "Does anyone else have any questions for Miss Dolohov?"

"I do," Draco said. He looked at her pointedly, dead serious, "How are your skills in… _potions?_"

He cocked an eyebrow at her and just the slightest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Tabitha flushed a light pink. "As you can see, I got all O's on my NEWTs," she replied.

"Oh yes, sorry," Draco said, not even pretending to look at her file, "I must have missed that. One other thing… no one has asked: Why did you leave your last position with Gringotts?"

Tabitha chewed her inner lip. "Well, traveling to various sites of ancient magic _is_ fascinating," she said, "But it's also incredibly dangerous…"

"So… being a Curse Breaker was too _hectic_ for you?" Draco asked, prodding her.

"_No_, that's not what I meant," she explained away quickly. "I like high energy jobs. That's why I've applied to be here; everything you do in a place like this _really_ counts. But is it so bad that I would like a position like that without having to put my own neck on the line?"

Draco laughed. "No, I don't think it is."

"Alright then!" the Ravenclaw witch said, "Which ward are you hoping to begin training in?"

After the shameless ribbing he'd just given her, Tabitha was embarrassed all over again when she had to reply "S-spell Damage."

The witch turned to Draco, "Up for another apprentice on your ward?" Draco nodded with a dismissive shrug. "All in favor?"

The board was unanimous; she was hired.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone for reading! The second chapter took awhile to get up as I really wanted it to be perfect. I'd appreciate your thoughts and / or a follow! **


	3. Chapter 3

**As our saga progresses: Draco still hates teaching, Tabitha blushes a lot because of **_**too many feels**_**, an unlikely friendship blossoms, and Neville is living large.**

* * *

As the junior-most apprentice on the ward, Tabitha was getting stuck with the majority of the grunt work her first few weeks on the job. So far she'd been taking almost all of the quick emergency outpatient cases — spell damage cases that required bones to be reset or a few quick waves of her wand to seal up gaping wounds. Most of the cases were quick, but horrendously boring. It got to the point where working as a Healer was becoming like working in a Muggle factory. She felt like she was on an assembly line. Magic sutures here, potions to revive memories there. She rarely even had to meet with patients for more than five minutes.

There were two other apprentices on the ward, both men, meaning she was often left feeling left-out of the boys' club. Draco didn't particularly pay any of them mind other than to assign duties, but it would have been nice for the other two apprentices—Regulus McLaggen and Alexei Cronk—to treat her like a colleague rather than an assistant. There was only one person on this ward to whom she was _required _to assist and that was their boss Draco. But Draco seemed to prefer to do things on his own anyhow.

Still, he _was_ supposed to be teaching them. Were they to ever be experienced enough to be promoted from the apprentice level to _actual_ full-blown Healers, they'd need his instruction. Regulus had dared ask once and was promptly put in his place.

They'd all been excited when a Muggle woman was admitted having been effected by a sleeping curse. She'd, apparently, been cleaning out her attic when she'd found an antique decorative mirror amongst her late grandmother's belongings. The woman had had no idea, of course, that said grandmother was a witch. Upon looking in the mirror, she'd fallen dead asleep. Her grandmother had enchanted the mirror in her old age, so senile she likely hadn't even known what she was doing.

Luckily woman's brother, who had inherited their grandmother's abilities, found his sister and brought her straight in, wrapping the mirror up carefully and bringing it with him. Tabitha was never sure what possessed families of mixed magical ability to hide their powers from the rest of their family. She supposed it must have had something to do with Muggle prejudices which could be every bit as strong as Pureblood prejudices, so she'd heard.

"Sir, Healer Malfoy," Regulus had begun, running to keep up with their supervisor's long strides. She and Alexei followed behind closely, "Shouldn't we be watching you? Curses are so rare, we might not get the chance to see this-"

"_Curses_ are not some exciting opportunity!" Draco had shouted, stopping so suddenly Regulus almost slammed into him. He towered over the poor apprentice, glowering down at him. Tabitha felt a pang of empathetic fear and anxiety stab at her own stomach just from watching the whole display. "I will let you assist on important cases when I decide you are _ready_ to assist on important cases, now _get __**out**__of my __**way**__!" _

Regulus took a shocked step backwards, despite the fact that Draco was continuing on in the opposite direction and Regulus had never really _been_ in the way. He turned back to Alexei and gave him a shrug with eyes still wide. Tabitha opened her mouth to commiserate but the two boys were off together without giving her so much as a second glance.

Well, okay, there was a second glance.

"Oy!" Alexei called back to her, "We forgot to clear out the files from rooms two and five. Can you get on that?"

Tabitha rolled her eyes and let out an annoyed huff as loudly as possible. But if they heard, they made no acknowledgement. She headed over to room two anyway.

* * *

Draco wasn't sure why he'd agreed to take on a total of _three _apprentices. He'd always hated teaching, he'd learned that from Miss Tabitha Dolohov herself. Well, now that life had improved, he looked back on that memory a little more fondly. She'd been such a funny girl. He could still see traces of that younger girl in this new woman, particularly how easily she embarrassed.

But, now in his employ with actual cause to seek him out, she seemed more than willing to leave him alone. It was what made her his favorite out of the three apprentices.

Regulus and Alexei were both smart, to be sure. Regulus McLaggen had gone to Durmstrang, a fact Draco still inherently respected. Alexei Cronk had been a Hufflepuff just a year younger than himself, but he'd proved himself shrewd at his first position with the ministry as an Auror. The only reason he switched professions, so he proclaimed, was due to the fact that Potter's presence within the department was making chances for career advancement increasingly difficult. Well, Draco could certainly empathize with that. Looking back on it, he may have hired Cronk out of pure sympathy.

But as smart as those two were, they were _terribly_ annoying. They had been quite nagging at first; persistently looking to him for training. It wasn't until he'd finally lost it on his way to break a sleeping curse that they finally let up.

But Tabitha had never given him a problem. From day one she'd simply come in and found a way to quietly make herself useful. It reminded Draco of himself in some respects… the basic instinct to keep one's head down and remain focused despite all odds.

And there were odds, to be sure. His apprentices may have thought he was too self-involved or busy to see what was going on but he was constantly aware of _everything_ on his ward. He'd seen how they snubbed Tabitha and how she was left with the worst assignments. It must have been unimaginably frustrating for someone who had just left a career in ancient curse-breaking to suddenly have their skills so underutilized. Part of him wanted to see how long she could take it. Most of him wanted to see what she'd do when she inevitably cracked.

In the meantime, he was transferring one of the boys to Creature-Induced Injuries. A request for staff had been put out and Draco couldn't handle three apprentices anyway. He really _was_ going to have to start teaching them one of these days, and two students sounded much better than three.

* * *

Tabitha couldn't help but feel relieved when Regulus was reassigned to Creature-Induced Injuries. Rumors of how short staffed the ward was had been going around for over a month and, as Draco had the most apprentices, they all knew one of them was going to have to go. She was pleased it wasn't her. After the attack of the tarantulas at the Mayan ruins, Tabitha didn't want to have anything to do with creatures, of any kind, ever again.

Also, she wanted to work on the Spell Damage ward; it had been her first choice, after all.

And, _fine_ — _yes_, she was getting another crush on Draco. There must have been something about one's first real crush, she decided, something you never really let go. Not to mention, he was just endlessly attractive. Returning female patients _always_ requested him when they came back for check-ups. And they were _always_ disappointed to find out that check-ups — while mostly not even necessary — were outsourced to apprentices.

Draco was a very busy man. The Longbottoms, while almost entirely cured, continued to experience night terrors and residual stress of such severity that they still could not live at home. They could, however, finally recognize and hold conversation with their son. Tabitha could have sworn she saw Draco get somewhat misty-eyed the last time Neville had come in for a visit. His success seemed to make him only _more_ determined to perfect to Moly potion he'd created. He wanted to eliminate any and all residual signs of insanity from Dark Magic spells. He wanted the Longbottoms to be able to go home.

It was all very touching and heroic and it just made Tabitha like him even more.

But Draco, unfortunately, did not seem to like her or Alexei. Even reassigning Regulus didn't help. He was too focused on his research to see his apprentices as anything but a burden.

But, even for Draco, there were slow days. The refined steeping process he used to create his healing elixir took several days. Once he had a batch going, there was nothing for him to do but wait and make his normal rounds. Most of the time, he busied himself with extremely dangerous emergency cases but those didn't always pop up.

It was on one of the slow days that Tabitha caught him idly leafing through the files of all the patients on their ward that day. She had just finished up an exam on a half-blood who thought he'd been hexed by a friend to increase mucus production — What kind of joke would that be? she'd asked herself at the time — only to inform him that he had the common cold and could either seek out a Muggle doctor or wait it out like most people. Though she was finished with the patient file, she busied herself with it a bit longer to avoid having to make eye contact with Draco.

"Dolohov!" Draco snapped at her, abruptly pulling her away from the chart she was reading. He was holding a file from the top of the out-patient box. Suddenly, a smile began to creep onto his features. "Nine-year-old in room six needs the antidote to his father's wit-sharpening potion. He can't stop screaming multiplication tables. You should be able to handle that, right?"

Tabitha blushed furiously. That was the very potion she'd had Draco "tutor" her on back in her fourth year. "Yes sir, of course," she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked, still smirking and speaking with greatly exaggerated concern in his voice, "If I remember correctly, you used to have a bit of trouble with wit-sharpening potions. I can always send Alexei in with you."

She swallowed thickly, annoyed that he was teasing her so terribly. She'd been _fourteen_ for goodness sake! Still, he was her boss now. "No, that's quite alright. I can handle it," she said and strode past him, head high, and into exam room six.

"Three times three is _nine! _Forty-seven times sixteen is _seven hundred and fifty-two!_" a small boy with curly hair was screaming when she walked in. He was sitting with his very tired looking father.

"He's been at it for _hours,_" the man said, "I only keep the potion around the house to take in small doses before I need to give presentations at the ministry… but he took the entire bottle!"

"Ten times thirteen is _one hundred and thirty!" _

"No worries, sir!" Tabitha chirped merrily, "We keep the antidote in house. Now we don't want to dumb him down _too_ considerably, so he'll just need a few drops. That'll leave him a bit smarter than normal for the next few hours, but he'll be back to his typical intelligence in a day or less after the potion leaves his system."

"_Thank you," _the father breathed out, heavily. He put his head in his hands and Tabitha got out her dropper.

* * *

Boy was she a sensitive little thing! Draco laughed to himself after she entered the exam room with the screaming child. She did get _terribly_ worked up; no wonder she hadn't been able to handle her last job.

That was unfair, he realized. If there was one thing that could be said about Tabitha it was that she had a strong constitution — for blood and bile, anyway. Socially she was a bit iffy. Then again, so was he.

He _had_ been meeting Neville in London every month or so for a drink, though. Occasionally, he would even make his way up to Hogsmeade and they'd grab a Butterbeer or Firewhiskey together. Neville seemed perfectly happy to put old-times behind him. And, as thankful as he was to have his relationship with his parents restored, Draco didn't think that was the only reason they were becoming friends. Neville seemed to recognize that Draco had genuinely changed. He got the sneaking suspicion that, even if he hadn't been able to cure his parents, Neville _still _would have forgiven him. He was a good bloke, that Longbottom.

A curly-haired man exited room six with a small boy who was no longer shouting mathematics. Behind them was a very satisfied looking Tabitha.

"Thank you again," the man said and Tabitha smiled.

"Of course," she said and handed the man a slip of paper, "Here's an enchantment you can put on… well anything you don't want him to be able to open. It prevents any child from opening whatever bottle the enchantment has been placed on. Use it sparingly though… you never know when you might be incapacitated and need him to retrieve something for you."

The father nodded. "Yes, well, normally I leave matters that require this sort of good judgement up to his mother," he said, "She's going to be quite angry when we get home."

"Surely not father! Mother is quite benevolent!" the little boy said.

"See what I mean? I won't be able to hide it from her," he said with a sigh and led his son out of the ward.

"You could have given him another dose," Draco said, stepping up beside her.

Tabitha was still smiling after the two. "Even another _half_ dose would have dropped his intelligence a noticeable amount," she said, "His mother would _definitely_ notice that. Mother's are surprisingly willing not to question a sudden increase in intelligence. She'll probably see it as proof that her baby was a genius all along."

Draco let out a short laugh and looked Tabitha over, causing her to meet his eyes for the first time since her interview for the position. "I agree," he said, "Good instinct, Dolohov."

"Thank you sir," she said, smiling broadly. Draco was appeased to see her genuine appreciation; he did not hand out compliments lightly. He was about to engage her in a bit of conversation about her first few weeks on the job when something caught his attention in his peripheral. Neville was here.

"Excuse me," he said abruptly and immediately left her side to meet with his new friend.

Neville had stopped bringing in plants and begun bringing in things his parents could now officially handle, like pictures. Before they would attempt to break the glass in the frames or tear the pictures apart if he left the glass out. Draco could see a scowling picture of Neville's gran from the top of a pile in brown box of things.

"Hullo, Draco!" he said cheerily as the Healer strode over with a pleasantly affable expression. Neville wasn't quite sure he'd ever get used to it.

Tabitha watched him walk away simultaneously annoyed at the interruption but, once again, floored by admiration for her boss's dedication. She liked being a Healer, even doing the grunt work, but she had yet to find a case she was truly passionate about. Hopefully one day she would be so lucky. In the moment she thought that, though, she immediately felt guilty. Tabitha doubted very sincerely that Draco found himself _lucky_ to have a case such as the Longbottoms' to obsess over. Everyone knew it was his aunt that put those poor people in their insane state; he must have felt terribly guilty.

"Well, _someone_ must be feeling very special," a voice said from behind her. It was Alexei.

Tabitha sighed before turning around. "Oh? I assume you're referring to me. Why do you say that?" she asked.

"A compliment from Malfoy? He's barely even spoken to us at all since we started, much less hand out a compliment," Alexei looked her up and down as she said it and Tabitha resisted the very strong urge to roll her eyes. She had the distinct, disgusting feeling that Alexei was implying that she had gotten the compliment simply because she was a woman. She declined to press further into the conversation and, instead, picked up a new file from the outpatient box, preparing to enter room seven where the patient was waiting.

Across the hall Neville was exiting his parents room with Draco. "I really only wanted to drop off some things," Neville said, "I'm meeting Luna for dinner in half an hour."

"Lovegood? Still?" Draco asked, being as nice as possible in tone. He really couldn't understand that attraction.

Neville smiled sheepishly. "I know, I know…" he said, "But, it's true what they say, you know."

"What do they say?" Draco asked.

"You know, about the _strange_ girls," he continued with a pointed look.

Draco frowned for a moment before his eyebrows shot upwards in understanding. _"Really?" _he asked, and then couldn't hold in a guffaw, "Well Longbottom, it appears congratulations are in order!"

Neville punched him lightly on the arm. "Oh _shut up_, Malfoy," he began, but stopped when he saw that Draco's attention had alighted on a female apprentice with long whitish-blonde hair talking to a male apprentice. "Ohhhh so you're interested in someone too then? About bloody time!"

Draco scowled. "You have it backwards," he said, "_She's _got the crush on _me_. She went to Hogwarts with us, five years behind, a Ravenclaw. Tabitha Dolohov."

"A Death Eater?" Neville asked.

Draco shrugged. "Her father tortured me," he said absently, "She never knew him, though. Grew up in Sweden."

"You know an awful lot about her…"

Draco fixed a pointed glare at his friend but turned back when he heard Alexei speak.

"So, you know… we're off in about an hour. Fancy going out for a drink?" he asked her.

Neville sensed Draco instantly tense. "You going to do something about that?" he asked him, "Seems kind of like you want to."

"Dolohov!" Draco barked at her. Tabitha and Alexei both jumped in surprise and she left Alexei's side without even a second glance.

"Yes sir?" she asked, jogging over to them. Neville took a step back to let them speak.

"I realize the work day is almost over but I need someone to stay late," he lied, "I'm finishing up a new batch of my Moly potion, I need an apprentice around to help me with a few steps."

Tabitha's eyes widened. She felt genuinely honored. She was going to have the opportunity to work on a refined version on one of the wizarding world's greatest inventions in decades. "O-f course!" she answered instantly, "Yes, I can stay as long as you need."

"Good, find me at the end of your rounds," he said and looked over her shoulder were Alexei was waiting for an invitation himself. "Cronk, you can leave early today. We'll see you tomorrow."

Cronk scowled but slapped his patient files down onto the counter and began to make his way out of the ward.

"Thank you," Tabitha said, "Thank you so much for this opportunity." Luckily he didn't have to say anything in response because she rushed back over to the outpatient file she'd been holding to finish up her remaining rounds as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, great job, _not_ what I meant," Neville said.

"Huh?" Draco asked, redirecting his gaze from Tabitha.

"When I asked if you were going to do something, to break up that date?" Neville reminded, "That's not what I meant."

"I wasn't breaking up the date!" Draco said.

Neville rolled his eyes. "For someone who had way more success with women while we were in school… you sure are clueless about dating these days," he said, preparing to leave.

"I'm not trying to date her! She's my apprentice!" he insisted.

"_Sure_, well… see you around!" Neville said and left Draco standing there with a barely noticeable blush creeping onto his own features for once.

* * *

**Sorry for the delay everyone! Hoping to have part four out within this next week as I've hit a major stall in my **_**Avengers**_** fics. But words of encouragement (or critical suggestions) always help to keep me on track, if you want to make sure I get the next chapter out in a week or less. ;) *nudge* In the next chapter, our favorite heros return! **


	4. Chapter 4

**In our latest act: Draco and Tabitha share their feels, eagle owls are snobby, midnight emergencies are afoot, the prodigal heros return, and so do some guilty parents.**

* * *

Honestly, Tabitha wasn't sure how Draco _ever_ managed to craft his elixir by himself. She considered herself pretty good with potions but, any way she cut it, she found this to be a two person job. As the refined mixture of steeped Moly, along with a few other odds and ends, was finally ready (after days and days brewing) to be dripped out in its entirety, it had to go into a freshly cleaned cauldron. A cauldron that had been _scourgified _and left to sit a few days previously wouldn't do; there could be no chance of contamination. So, before the process began she had waved her wand, with extra careful attention and focus, to clean everything while Draco looked the steeped Moly mixture with a keen eye for clouding.

He was grumbling softly to himself. She checked over her shoulder.

"I suspected it would be," he said to himself before acknowledging her with the briefest second of eye contact, "Cloudy, I mean. It's not quite right."

Tabitha looked at it from where she stood. Though a blackish-purple in color, it looked perfectly translucent to her. She didn't say anything.

"We'll continue though," he said, "_Accio_ cauldron," he added lazily and the small cauldron she'd just finished waving her wand over flew into his outstretched hand.

Tabitha readied herself, this is where things got tricky enough to need two people — at least, in her opinion.

The Moly elixir began to drip steadily in the cauldron and, immediately, she began to lightly muddle some belladonna in a mortar and pestle. Belladonna was usually poisonous but, when used freshly and added at the appropriate temperature it was safe. And, apparently, necessary for this new batch of Draco's potion though she couldn't even hazard a guess as to why.

Draco watched her silently with a critical piercing gaze. She knew it couldn't be too crushed or there was a chance it what melt into the potion completely — also dangerous.

"That's enough," he stopped her. He picked up a few of the lavender belladonna flower petals and sprinkled them into the Moly elixir. "_Incendio_," he muttered and a flame sprung to life on the end of his wand. He used it to heat the underside of the cauldron, peering deep inside its depths searching for… what? Tabitha gazed inside as well, searching for what he was. She finally saw the tiniest of bubbles break the surface and Draco removed the flame.

At this point he rolled up his sleeves and picked up a slotted wooden spoon to manually remove the Belladonna leaves. As Tabitha was staring in wonderment at how quickly Draco worked, Draco was feeling self conscious about the fact that he'd asked her for help when he _clearly_ didn't need it. _Ironic_, he thought, remembering their encounter at Hogwarts.

"You can bottle it," he said, "We're done." He leaned back onto a counter behind him watching as she used her wand to summon flasks and a funnel, expertly pouring the potion out of the cauldron without needing to truly exert herself.

"Will you be giving it to the Longbottoms?" she asked after she'd added a stopper.

"No, they'll need a much more refined version at this point in their treatment," he said, "We'll keep this around for anyone else unfortunate enough to be hit by Dark Magic. If the Moly mixture had been completely clear before we added the Belladonna… maybe."

Draco uncrossed his arms and leaned back onto his palms on the counter. His sleeves were still rolled up and Tabitha's eyes couldn't help but alight on his bright red brand: the Dark Mark. He followed her eyes and instantly his lips curled into a snarl as he pushed his sleeves back down rapidly.

"I'm sorry," she began, "Wait…" She rolled up her own left sleeve where the same sigil was imprinted. "My Aunt Liri told me I was the only baby to ever get one, I don't even remember… I was so young."

Draco considered her, a frown still etched into his features. "He got lax about it towards the end of the war," he said, "Used to be reserved for the inner circle, started using them as a means of intimidation, proof of loyalty. Still it doesn't make sense that a baby-"

"-My father probably begged him," she interrupted, turning her back to him suddenly to pick up the bottled potion and re-clean the cauldron with a quick flick of her wand. "I didn't know him, obviously, at _all_. But he was fiercely loyal, I know that much. It was probably some stupid _reward_ for some _disgusting _thing he did."

She stopped herself suddenly, a blush creeping onto her features. She had no idea how Draco—her current _boss_—felt about his past. She had hoped to tread lightly at this new job and here she was probably ruining any chance at a second research opportunity by insulting her boss.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean… I never had to-"

"Don't apologize," he said holding up a hand, "It _was_ disgusting, all of it. At least I knew that. Your father… _my _father, they didn't."

She nodded and crossed the room to place their newly made potion in a storage cabinet. "Still, I escaped most of it. I can't imagine-"

"You shouldn't have to," Draco said with a shrug.

"Well, I'm sorry for what you've been through all the same."

He looked down at the floor when she said that but nodded. She waited a moment to see if he'd do or say anything else but he made no motion.

"Well, if that's all…"

"Yes, Dolohov. Good work today," he said.

"Thank you for asking me to help tonight. It was an incredible opportunity," Tabitha said.

He just nodded again so she head out of the room, feeling very peculiar. Had she ruined her work experience by getting too personal? Or had she actually made Draco Malfoy feel a little bit better?

* * *

An insistent rapping at her flat window in London, just a few hours later, woke Tabitha abruptly.

"_Lumos_," she murmured groggily, grasping for her wand at the side of the bed. Clutching it, she guided the light to the window where an enormous eagle owl was tapping its beak with great impatience and fluttering its wings in agitation. Clasped in its beak was a letter sealed with emerald wax.

Tabitha opened the window and the owl flew in gracefully, dropping the letter into her lap and promptly landing on her bedside table where it proceeded to drink from her glass of water without asking.

She broke the wax and unfolded the letter. It was short and the ink smeared as if written hastily.

_St. Mungo's — NOW. Emergency._

_-Draco _

Tabitha flew out of bed to begin pulling on some close. Despite the anxiety clenching in her stomach, she was all too aware of how her heart fluttered into her throat upon realizing he'd signed it with his first name. The owl hooted at her impatiently, wanting to know if there'd be a reply.

"No, just go! No time to reply!" she shouted.

If owls could roll their eyes… it looked her over with disdain before flying out the window with a single great flap of its wings, unceremoniously knocking her water to the floor. She was too rushed to even care.

Quickly tying her hair up into a ponytail and grabbing her lime-green St. Mungo's jacket, she was out the door in less than five minutes. She felt too groggy to properly apparate and ran to the nearest disguised wizarding pub where she could use the Floo Network.

* * *

She arrived to a scene of absolute chaos. Just as she stepped onto her ward, Alexei was beside her.

"Do you know what's going on?" he asked.

"Just that it's an emergency," she responded, rushing to the emergency center of the ward. She could make out the top of Draco's head in the distance.

"_You_ cannot take care of him!" a man's voice with shouting, "Not _bloody _Draco Malfoy!"

Some security staff members were doing their best to hold back a red-headed man whom Tabitha recognized immediately as Ron Weasley.

"Can we get a different Healer, _please_?" none other than Hermione Granger was pleading next to them, "He needs help _now_."

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to trust Healer Malfoy!" Tabitha said, stepping into the fray forcefully, "He's the best Healer against the Dark Arts that we've got, and I assume that's what you're here for. All of Healer Malfoys patients receive _top_ quality care, I assure you!"

Something about the sharp ring of her voice, broke up the ensuing insanity and Ron backed off in his efforts to attack Draco, who was doing a very poor job of disguising his cringing due to Ron's flailing fists.

"Where is the patient?" she asked, snapping her supervisor back into reality.

"Here," he said and they both approached a bed behind Ron and Hermione where—Tabitha almost couldn't believe her eyes—Harry Potter was laying beaten, bloody, and bruised.

"Get details," Draco ordered at her vaguely as he began to wave his wand over Harry, checking for badly broken bones or internal bleeding.

"What happened? Do you know what spell hit him?" she asked Ron and Hermione.

Ron literally growled in frustration and anger. Hermione's breath hitched in her throat as she responded, "The Cruciatus Curse… only a few minutes under the curse but he was mumbling incoherently before he blacked out," she said.

"The Death Eaters, they're _back_. And one of them is fixing to kill Harry right now!" Ron shouted, ready to pounce on his old enemy once again.

"Save it for the Ministry, Mr. Weasley!" Tabitha shouted at him, "Healer Malfoy, you may have heard, has recently _cured_ the parents of a good friend of yours. I can assure you Mr. Potter is in good hands."

"The elixir, Dolohov! The one we made today, get it. His damage isn't extensive," Draco ordered.

"I need to fetch something to heal your friend. Do I have your word that you will not _attack_ Healer Malfoy in the meantime?" she asked.

Ron narrowed his eyes at her but Hermione nodded. "Yes, go, please."

Tabitha rushed out and was back with the elixir in a second. At Draco's side, she waiting as he carefully opened Harry's mouth and dripped just a small amount of the potion in. In just a matter of seconds, he regained consciousness.

"Here," Draco said handing her the bottle, "Make sure he drinks the rest. He's about as likely to trust me as _this one_." He gestured towards Weasley with a thumb and walked out of the room.

"You're going to be alright Harry," she soothed, "You're at St. Mungo's. I'm going to give you something and I need you to swallow all of it, try to ignore the taste."

A still very out-of-it Harry nodded the slightest bit and winced as he gulped the elixir down. From her peripheral, Tabitha could see Ron still glaring at Draco as he walked out of the room. Hermione's gaze stood fixated on Harry as the dazed look in his eyes slowly lifted and he returned to his normal self.

* * *

Harry shaped up just fine within the hour, but he was put on bedrest for the rest of the evening just in case. Ron and Hermione had booked a room in Muggle London for the evening just down the street. Alexei had left the moment he realized he was not needed. And Tabitha was wandering around the ward trying to find Draco.

She was unsuccessful and, assuming he had left as well, she headed up to the Visitors' Tearoom for some chamomile before she returned to her own flat. There, she was quite surprised to find Draco with a pot of tea next to him. He was staring furiously into the bottom of his teacup.

"You're still here," she said, taking a seat across from him without needing to be asked.

He broke the staring contest with the cup and looked up at her with mild surprise as well. "_You're_ still here," he countered.

"Granger needed a lot of reassurance," she sighed.

"Granger? Not Mrs. Weasley?" he asked.

"Oh were they an item?" she asked.

"_Were?_" he laughed, "I'd be surprised if they still aren't. Thought they'd be married by now."

Tabitha shrugged. "You're all still very young."

He nodded thoughtfully before dropping his teacup onto the table with a soft clatter. "I guess I forget that sometimes. But that's funny coming from _you_, you're… what?"

"Nineteen," she answered softly, "_Accio _teacup," she said, summoning a cup from behind the counter, where a staff member was falling asleep, and helping herself to some of Draco's tea. She could see tea leaves at the bottom of his own cup. He'd been staring at them.

"Nine_teen_," he said, practically pronouncing it as if it were two words. He seemed to think the age so young, though he himself was only twenty-four. He followed her gaze down to his cup. "I was never any good at Tessomancy," he said, referring to the bunches of tea leaves, "Or any part of Divination for that matter. Most of it's total crock."

She nodded in mixed-agreement. Still peering into his cup. From her angle she could almost make out the shape of a falcon — the sign of a deadly enemy. Given the evening's recent events, she thought it best not to mention.

"Draco," she said seriously, causing him to look her in the eye, "Did you hear what Ron Weasley said?"

"Yeah, I heard him," he responded, thickly.

"What do we do?" she asked.

"We let the Ministry figure it out. That's what Potter and his team of Aurors are _for_, after all," he said, sounding more sure than he felt. "It's not like You-Know-Who is back," he said, still scared of the name, "He's gone for good."

Tabitha nodded and sipped her tea thoughtfully. Her stomach was still tied up in knots. Draco could tell just from looking at her. Poor girl had never been good at disguising her emotions and her fear and anxiety was so palpable he swore he could feel it himself. Or maybe those were his own emotions.

"We both should head home," he said, "Only four or so more hours till we have to be back."

He stood up, his chair scraping behind him loudly in the abandoned tearoom. He began to walk away without any other pleasantries but her soft voice stopped him again.

"Goodnight, Draco," she said.

He paused but didn't look back. "Goodnight," he said firmly and walked off. It was only once he was out of the building that he even allowed himself to think… _Tabitha. _

Still inside the tearoom, Tabitha gulped down the rest of her cup and studied her own leaves for a moment. She saw another bird… one smaller, and less distinct. Perhaps a dove? A swallow? Either symbol, she remembered, foretold love. But in the dead center of her cup, very distinct indeed, was a large X of tea leaves. X stood for loss.

* * *

Draco had a lot more to be concerned about than he let on to Tabitha. Instead of going home for a few hours of pointless tossing and turning, he apparated straight to his parents' house.

"Father!" he shouted, storming up the great marble staircase in his childhood foyer, "Mother! I need to talk to you _now!_" He strode down the a lengthy hall decked in a sweeping dark green carpet. "Father!"

Ahead of him, two great double doors parted and his mother peeked her head out.

"Darling, is that you? It must be four in the morning!" she lamented but trudged out, clutching her robe closed with one hand but holding her other arm outstretched to embrace him. "Whatever is the matter?"

He allowed her the briefest of half-hugs and bent so she could give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. She'd become much more affectionate ever since he'd stopped coming to see them all but twice or so a year.

"_You_ people, are the bloody matter," Draco hissed at her, "As _usual_."

His father appeared at the door also clothed in a bathrobe, clutching his staff. These days, Draco could see, he really was favoring it for genuine support rather than as a stylish accent. His father was getting old; surely he could not have been behind any of this.

"Draco, you have woken your mother and frightened her," his father began to admonish lightly. Ever since his sixth year at Hogwarts, with the impossible task and the resulting torture, he had never known his father to _truly_ yell at him, so great was his guilt. Even better, now Draco was an adult. His father was just a wretched old man, he thought, with a sneer.

"She _should_ be frightened," he said, stepping up to his father's face and towering over him now that his father's posture had begun to sag and droop, "Unless you two know _all_ about what happened tonight. Which wouldn't bloody surprise me at all."

"Darling, whatever are you talking about?" his mother asked, lifting her hand to her son's face. Draco stepped backwards as if he'd been scalded and deep seated pain flashed through his mother's eyes.

"I was called into St. Mungo's this morning for an emergency. Harry _Potter_," he spat at his parents, "was hit by the Cruciatus Curse. And Ron Weasley was about to beat my face in because he said the _Death Eaters were back_."

His mother inhaled sharply. "But our marks, we didn't feel anything-"

"Well of course _Voldemort _isn't back!" he shouted, tempted to add "You stupid woman!" but still, relatively, in control of his temper. He did hate saying the name but it was nice to watch his parents flinch.

"It must be a resistance… or something to that effect," his father said softly, "But I can assure you, Draco, we knew nothing about it. You likely have more insight than we do."

Draco huffed in annoyance. Simultaneously relieved and annoyed that his parents couldn't tell him more. He kneaded his forehead in frustration with his fingers.

"After the battle…" he began, "No survivors ever sought you out? Contacted you at all?"

"No dear-" Narcissa began but he interrupted her.

"Because if they did! If they did, you would _owe _me the truth. For my own safety, at least. If that even matters to you," he yelled.

His mother's eyes began to well up in tears. And his father put a hand on her shoulder. "Of course it matters to us Draco," Lucius told his son. "More than anything."

Draco sighed and leaned back against the wall in the hallway. He was exhausted.

"Darling," his mother said, her voice quickly regaining its strength, "Why don't you just stay here tonight? It doesn't make sense for you to further strain yourself by apparating right now."

Draco could hear the desperate hope in her voice. And honestly, he was so tired he just wanted to drop into bed. "Fine," he said, "But I'm apparating to work first thing tomorrow morning."

He allowed her to kiss his cheek again before he head for his childhood bedroom. His father made no motion to touch him or say anything else, unsurprisingly. But he was too tired to care. He collapsed onto his huge emerald-canopied bed, still fully clothed, and fell asleep in just a matter of seconds.

* * *

**Was this within a week? Close enough! Thanks again for your thoughts and reviews; it's how I get my motivation to continue. A good old-fashioned follow, to know their are people waiting for the next part, pumps me up too! Without all the lovely support, every time I sit down to write I would start chastising myself about all the real work there is to be done! Still, these stories are a fun reprieve. **

**I meant to make this a bit longer but honestly felt this was a good stopping point. Next chapter the adventure really picks up!**


End file.
